The 9th
November is a particular day in German history. In 1918, the half-
hearted
and quickly aborted ‘November Revolution’ showed that Germans lack the vigour
and focus of the French or Russians when it comes to revolutionary endeavours,
confirming the poet Heinrich Heine’s adage that the German oak tree lends
itself badly to be transformed into gallows for the wealthy and powerful. In
1923, a fascist rabble-rouser called Adolf Hitler tried to conquer power in
Bavaria, unsuccessfully for the time being because he had not yet understood
that he would be more successful by counting on the German electorate and the
compliance of liberal and conservative elites instead of forcing his way to
power with violence only. In 1938, Germany’s Jewish population was given a
taste of even more horrible things to come during the pogroms of the ‘Kristallnacht’,
one of the most barbaric and visible first steps towards the Holocaust. And
finally, in 1989, the Berlin wall fell, marking the end of the division of
Germany.
Nothing out of the ordinary could be reported for the 9th
November 2015, but in the mid-sized city of Dresden this Monday bore again
witness to a deeply worrying weekly spectacle: a demonstration of thousands of
followers of PEGIDA, an organisation that presents itself as a collective of
concerned Europeans fighting against the Islamisation of the Occident.
In recent months, events in Dresden have gained some space
on the news agenda in countries like Britain, but I would argue that this
attention has often been based on two
misconceptions regarding first the question as to what PEGIDA represents,
and secondly the equally important matter of what it actually is. Let’s look
into these two points in turns.
While it may be fascinating to ask why this movement has
managed to sustain its mobilisation in Dresden to an extent unseen in any other
parts of Germany (and there are local
factors that could explain this conundrum), asking this question implies
that PEGIDA is a localised problem, something that neither other German cities
nor the rest of Europe need to worry about. Instead, it makes more sense to see
Dresden as the crater, the visible exit, for magma that is bubbling under the
whole of German society.
This magma, to stick to the geological analogy, consists of
two interconnected political forces: On the one hand, we can observe in Germany
as much as in many other European countries especially of the North and East a
considerable number of people whose worldview is aligned to what the
sociologist Wilhelm
Heitmeyer calls ‘group-focused
enmity’, in other words a set of core beliefs that considers other human
beings, because of their belonging to specific social groups such as ethnic
minorities, as being inferior. On the other hand, German society has in the
last years been marked by the presence of a highly violent activism of the far-right,
which strangely enough usually fails to attract the attention of international
media observers who are normally so quick in falling over themselves to laud
the virtues of the German model, be it with regards to its economic success or
its presumably consensual, mature politics. According to the Amadeu Antonio
Foundation, since 1990 178 people have been killed by right-wing
extremists; since the beginning of this year, there have been 637
criminal acts against refugee accommodations including arson, often committed
by persons who are not yet known to the security forces (even though one
shouldn’t read too much into this, given that the scandal
around the ‘National Socialist Underground’ has shown to what extent there
is an opaque link between right-wing terrorist groups and the security
apparatus).
In the magma chamber of contemporary Germany, these hitherto
largely separated two strands of xenophobic racist ideology and far-right
activism seem to have come together, forming a volatile brew that erupts with a
foul stench from the crater that is Dresden.
If this is indeed the case, the question as to what PEGIDA
is becomes important beyond academic debates, given that it may allow for
insights into what is bubbling under German society. In the media, terms such as
right-wing populism, ‘Wutbürger’
(angry citizens) or ‘the frustrated’ are frequently used, demonstrating a
certain insecurity as to how this movement ought to be categorised. But looking
at how the movement presents itself and its concerns and objectives, some key
themes emerge. There is a clear focus on defending German society against an
enemy from both within (political elites that PEGIDA considers to be complicit
in opening the country to its outside adversaries) and the outside (Muslims,
refugees, unwanted foreigners); a sense of being betrayed by those in power; an
urge to keep Germany ‘pure’ to prevent its further decline and to address with
strong voluntarism its presumed profound crisis.
Going through that list, it is striking that these views
correspond neatly to the definition of fascism given by the historian Robert O.
Paxton (2004). Therefore, things become much clearer and we can start calling a
spade a spade, or in this instance a fascist a fascist, without being too cagey
about offending anyone.
Now, qualifying PEGIDA as fascist is not the same as being
overly alarmed. Fascist movements have only ever got to power when they found
support among conservative and (to a lesser extent) liberal elites, when they
confronted a dysfunctional political system that had lost the ability to
regulate social conflicts and political questions in a legitimate way. Despite
the profound crisis of European polity, we are not yet there. But it seems
crucial to be careful and to keep an eye on these developments that seem unlikely
to get better before they get worse.
Which brings me to my final point: As unpleasant as the
regular sight of PEGIDA in the picturesque centre of Dresden may be, at least
this crater allows us to look into the magma chamber underneath, to frequently gauge
the latter’s condition. It is not much, but in a period when the far-right with
its reactionary and aggressive rhetoric and worldview gains ground almost
everywhere in Europe, one can’t be picky when it comes to ‘good news’.
Paxton, R.O.
(2004). The Anatomy of Fascism.
London: Penguin Books.
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